Shadows

By M. Willow

Chapter Seven

Starsky burst through the door, his eyes scanning the darkness.  It was difficult to see, but he could make out the white-blond hair of his partner.  Hutch was sitting up in bed and there was no one else in the room. 

He approached cautiously.  Only seconds had passed since he heard his partner scream.  He had been asleep, the soft patter of rain against the window lulling him into a peaceful slumber.  But then he heard the scream that made his blood run cold.  It didn’t take long to realize it was Hutch.  Convinced it had to be an intruder, he had grabbed his gun and reached Hutch’s room just before the screaming stopped. 

Now, standing in his partner’s room, the lightening illuminating the huddled figure on the bed, he was convinced it was a nightmare that had made his partner scream and not an intruder.  An intruder would have made the blond grab his gun and shoot. 

He approached the bed slowly and switched the light on.  Thankfully the lamp provided enough light for him to see his partner.

Hutch was shaking, staring into a corner just next to the window.  His face was frozen in terror, his skin impossibly white.  A sudden clap of thunder made the brunet start, but not Hutch.  His eyes remained glued to the corner like he was seeing something.  Starsky glanced in that direction while sitting down on the bed.  The blond showed no awareness that he was there.  He spoke softly. 

”Hutch, you alright?”   But Hutch didn’t say anything, just continue to stare.  Hutch looked like a man who had just witness something so terrifying that he had shut down. 

Starsky shuddered.  He was way out of his league. 

“Hutch, do you hear me? Buddy, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Hutch didn’t reply.  Starsky followed his eyes to the wall he was looking at.  It was ordinary, no pictures, nothing, yet Hutch was looking at it as if there was something there.  It was like he wasn’t really awake and the nightmare that had made him scream was still playing itself out.

Starsky pulled the cover over his friend.  He wanted to make him lie down, but was afraid that any attempt at repositioning the blond would cause another hysterical attack.  Hutch seemed right on the edge.

“Hutch, talk to me.  What are ya seeing?” he asked, sparing another glance at the corner.

Hutch didn’t answer and the brunet wondered if he was having some sort of breakdown.  He had seen people in mental institutions who looked like Hutch did now.  Still, that didn’t just happen over night.  That took years to develop and Hutch had been normal when they had arrived.  Or had he, Starsky wondered. He recalled how tense Hutch had been.  How he seemed afraid to come to Duluth.  And then there was that incident in the east wing.  The fact was Hutch hadn’t been normal since he received that phone call from Kelly.   He should have pushed more for the blond to explain what was going on.   Now he was miles from everything he knew, his partner was in shock, and he didn’t know what to do.

Hutch was shivering so he moved closer to him.  A little maneuvering left Hutch cradled in his arms, his head leaning against Starsky’s chest.  The blond’s eyes never left the corner.  Starsky was grateful when Hutch started to relax.  He was almost boneless in his arms now.

 “Hutch, please talk to me.  Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.  Thunder sounded in the distance.  The storm was passing making Starsky almost sigh in relief.  The storm and Hutch’s current state rattled his nerves beyond reason.

 Starsky took a breath, stilling himself against the rising panic.  He determined that he would make his friend comfortable.  No way was he calling an ambulance, or taking him to a hospital where some shrink would lock him away.  He knew Hutch would come out of this and he was determined that he would have a life and job to go back to when he did. 

He pulled the blond tighter to his chest, covering both of them with the cover.  It was cold in the room, but he didn’t dare leave him to make a fire.  This was serious stuff he was dealing with.  Whatever was spooking Hutch had a lot to do with Lamb House.  He would have to solve the mystery in order to save Hutch.

He recalled Hutch earlier breakdown, the sheer panic and terror as he ran from the room.  He’d seen things like that before, old buddies, years out of Viet Nam, but still having flashbacks. They called it shell-shock back then, now it was called  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but what it amounted to was a person could lapse into the past, re-experiencing the event that scared them.  If Hutch was having a flashback, it had to be to a period he couldn’t remember.  That happened too, the painful memory blocked in order to protect the mind.  One of the symptoms of a person who was suffering from the disorder was an avoidance of the place where it had occurred.  That could certainly explain why Hutch didn’t want to come home.

Starsky smoothed his hand over the blond hair, it was baby fine, and now, nestled in his arms, Hutch seemed almost like a child.  He had closed his eyes, shutting out whatever terror he had witness only moments before.  Soon Starsky heard the soft snores of his partner.  He was almost overwhelmed by his need to protect him.  His problem:  he didn’t know what he was protecting him from.  He suspected even Hutch couldn’t fully answer that question. 

TBC